I hate the feeling of being ashamed. The feeling usually follows a moment of public failure or a forced acknowledgment of a personal shortcoming. As a leader you are going to have these moments when you come up short or fail spectacularly in front of your entire organization. How should the leader respond when everything in the heart and soul is telling you to hide and run away?
We’ve all had these moments; I might as well share mine. I was a precocious nine-year-old little boy, and my parents would take me to church every Sunday morning – and night. I usually did ok in the morning services, as the church had plenty of kid friendly activities to keep us occupied. Sunday nights, however, were a totally different story. To this day I believe I experienced some of the greatest boredom in my life during those hours. And of course, it was all compounded by the crushing reality that I was missing the Disney Sunday night movie that everyone would be talking about the next day at school. While initially it was a requirement for me to sit right next to mom and dad, I eventually was granted the privilege to sit anywhere in the sanctuary as long as I behaved and stayed with eyeshot. It was a welcome reprieve, that eventually got me into a lot of trouble. Ironically, my favorite spot was most often on the second pew near the piano. Brother Jim Jones would sit on the otherwise empty pew right in front of me and play bass guitar with his little amp while we all sang hymns. Once the music was over, he would go back and sit with his wife Rosie during the sermon and then make it back to the front for the invitation hymn at the end of every service.
One particular Sunday night I was sitting alone in my pew during the sermon and for whatever reason the minister began a rather lengthy prayer. So long in fact that I eventually opened my eyes and started looking around. Every eye was closed but my own. So, I reached over the pew and started to fiddle with brother Jim’s bass guitar. I had never touched a guitar, so naturally I started turning all the knobs and levers, just messing around. Without knowing it, what I had actually done was loosened every string on the guitar and turned the volume on the pick-up from a three to a ten. As soon as the prayer was over, I sat back in my pew and the sermon continued with no one the wiser… that is until it was time for the invitation hymn.
As was normal, brother Jim walked down and grabbed his bass while the minister wrapped up the sermon. The first few chords from “Just As I Am” rang serenely from the piano and organ, but as soon it was time for Jim to join in, the most sinful, evil, and horrendous sounds began to pour forth from the little Peavy amp under the pew. All eyes were immediately on brother Jim who by this time had gone rapidly from embarrassment to full blown rage, and it was all focused on a scared little boy who was desperately praying for the Lord to return before the hymn ended. Outside of the impending fear of retribution, the only other emotion I distinctly remember was that I was ashamed of what I had done.
Yes, when you screw up, it really sucks. You let people down and you suddenly feel unworthy in your role as a leader. The leader, who is held to be a paragon of excellence, will occasionally be exposed by the fallibility that is common to all mankind. What do we do in these moments?
For starters, I think one of the most important things for a leader is to never take themselves too seriously. If you create or foster an image of yourself that is impossible to maintain or doesn’t allow for an occasionally slip, then you’ll constantly feel the need to hide your faults from the organization. Secondly, it is important to remember that failure is common to every person and in most cases, it does not diminish your ability to lead. You still have the goods; you just have to regain the confidence to keep leading.
Take five minutes and consider, Have I let a moment of shame or embarrassment derail my leadership? Have a gone into hiding or convinced myself that my leadership is no longer effective because I’ve let my image become more important the pursuit of the vision?
Later that evening, after the “bass incident” I had to confront Jim and acknowledge what he already knew, that I had messed with his guitar. I wasn’t able to look him in the eyes as I confessed, but I remember the relief I felt when he wrapped his arms around me and said, “it’s ok, young man”. It might have been the first real lesson I learned about leadership: Owning up to your failures is the first step towards recovery along the journey.
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